


Bound

by Eureka234



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Altered Mental States, Drabble, F/M, Kink Negotiation, Rope Bondage, Sensory Deprivation, Suspension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 14:39:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16199597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eureka234/pseuds/Eureka234
Summary: Faith is introduced to kink by a mage she doesn't know too well.





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

> This is an excerpt of my Samson origin story "Samson’s Shield of Shame" which got removed but I also found it interesting enough not to delete. Enjoy!

**Dragon 9:19**

Faith couldn’t stop staring at the many vials on the top row of the cabinet. The other rows had concoctions of many shades, as though it was the mixing pallet of a painter. Her fingerprints left marks, so she left as many as she could on the glass, irritated she did not have the keys to open the locks. The cabinet frame was expensive black iron, separated into three smaller sections with points on the top, and rectangular patterns over the glass, reminiscent of the Viscount’s Keep.

“Faith,” Ewan said. He brought a cloth to the glass and wiped over it, removing all her fingerprints, but Faith refused to move her hands, “Why are you defiling my possessions?”

“I want lyrium,” Faith said, “Can I?”

She turned to the mage, to watch his brown eyes, which were far more telling than his facial expressions ever were.

“Lyrium.” He mused on the word as he put the cloth on the bench top. “Is the withdrawal returning?”

“A little,” Faith said.

“The cravings are, then?” Ewan corrected. He was a muscled mage, but modest in his attire.

Faith, feeling embarrassed, nodded.

He grabbed her wrists and moved them off the cabinet. “What strengthens your cravings?”

Faith frowned. “Stress, I guess.”

Ewan’s pupils shrunk. It always felt like he was zooming in on her and seeing her every detail. “What is making you stressed?”

“Work,” Faith said, “I killed three today for the Iron, in the same location, one after the other. I didn’t feel stressed when it happened.” She paused. Ewan was still listening, though he kept hold of her hands. Faith couldn’t tell if she should be scared by this or not. “It worries me that I don’t feel anything when I see that happen. I heard terrorists feel that way. I don’t want to be like that.”

“You assume you know how terrorists feel,” Ewan said, “Your worry proves that you care about their deaths, even if the process of murder does not concern you.”

Faith felt ashamed, “What about you?”

“I am the same as you,” Ewan said, “Killing does not upset me, although now I do not even think about whether I am human or not human. I choose to be kind when I am given the opportunity. That, to me, is how I can display my humanity.”

Faith tried to pull her wrists free, though Ewan simply moved his hands further down her arm, misinterpreting what she wanted, “How many have you killed?”

“That is irrelevant,” Ewan replied. Faith watched as he looked at her forearms.

“But you cared about seeing me nearly die,” Faith said.

He met her eyes, with his penetrative stare. “Yes, I did.”

The corner of Ewan’s mouth twitched, as though he wanted to smile, but it didn’t quite get there. He squeezed her arms. “Is your craving still with us?”

Faith inhaled slowly, “A little.” She hesitated, but curiosity of what Ewan would say overwhelmed her, “but not as much.”

“What caused that?”

“I… like the feel of your hands.”

Ewan looked nonchalant as ever, “I may like your hands, yet I do not want them on the glass of my cabinet.”

“Your cabinet rejects me,” Faith theorized, and she couldn’t help smiling. She watched as Ewan tracked the change in her expression.

“It does,” he said.

Faith blushed. “I’m not your immaculate furniture. You can leave fingerprints on me.”

Ewan let go of her and looked at his fingers, “I don’t think they are dirty enough to do that.”

His demeanour since she had met him was more than non-social but also non-sexual. He did not ever mention friends, or family in conversation- and when Faith had told Ewan about how she allowed some of the owners of her house rotations take advantage of her, his response was ‘Petty humans’. Though he had tolerated so much of her emotions, and he had been generous and so helpful for no personal gain of his own, she trusted him. She didn’t feel as guilty to live with him, as temporary as it may be. As the weeks passed, she began to wonder if since he was the exception to her rules, if she was the exception to his.  

“Mages get lyrium cravings too… How do you cope with yours?”

Ewan held out one of his hands and materialized his cabinet key from apparently nowhere. “I don’t experience them -physical symptoms, yes- but that is all.”

She debated with herself on whether to inquire more, as Ewan opened the lock to his cabinet and took out the lyrium vial on the far top left.

“Do you want to touch me?” Faith asked, finally.

The mage didn’t reply until he had locked the cabinet again and made the key disappear, “What I want is quite separate to what I should do,” he showed her the vial, “Faith, this is lyrium that you can safely consume.”

Faith’s jaw dropped, “You bought it for me?”

Ewan nodded, “I did-“

“Thank you!”

“-but you are not allowed to have it.”

“Why not?” Faith wondered, her eyes on the glowing blue.

“I’m curious if you would like to play a game,” Ewan said, “An experiment, I guess. I would like to discover just what it takes to eradicate this craving of yours.”

Faith was filled with curiosity. Ewan saying he wanted to play a game was like a cat deciding it would bring back human food for its owner. “What kind of game?”

Ewan smiled one of his rare smiles, “I would like to tie you, keep you in the air, and see what happens if I leave you there.”

Faith was astounded. She had never heard of such a game before, “You’re going to abandon me? What, and laugh as I cry about how lonely I am?”

“Maybe,” Ewan said, and he looked very amused now, “Though it depends on your behaviour. If you do as I ask while you are tied, I will touch you. If you do not, I will temporarily tighten the bindings. It will only be for a second or two - I will tighten them a great deal, and then loosen them. What demands or rewards would be inappropriate?”

The woman pondered on this. “Is this a sex game?”

“Yes, Faith,” Ewan said, without a hint of condescension.

A rush of excitement coursed through her. She hadn’t been bound before, though it sounded like he was just trying to help her. “Don’t physically hurt me. It reminds me of withdrawal, and don’t put your cock down my throat… or put your cock anywhere. I haven’t had good experiences with them.”

“Tightening the binds is acceptable?”

“It should be,” Faith said, with a nod.

“Tell me if it isn’t,” Ewan said. He placed the lyrium vial on the floor, “This is what you want,” he said, and he straightened up, “and you won’t have it.”

Not sure what to do, Faith simply stood there, staring at the potion as the song started to whisper to her. Electric blue light filled the room and she watched as ribbons of this light wove themselves around her in a pattern similar to the marks on the cabinet – geometrical shapes, the work of someone who had practiced this many times before.

Ewan watched her dispassionately, as though he was a geologist examining a rock.

“Please tell me a word that you will use to mean ‘stop’ which is unlikely to blurted out by accident.”

Faith had to think about this until she was in the air. She tried not to look at the ground, because it was frightening to be so high up (even if it was only a meter), though she wouldn’t give in from her childish fear, “Abrázame. For what means ‘stop’.”

“Antivan,” Ewan paced over to her and ran a finger under her foot, “I don’t think that is the direct translation of ‘stop’. How are you?”

“High up,” Faith said with a grim smile, “It means ‘embrace me’.”

“Curious choice of word,” Ewan acknowledged.” He checked she was comfortable and said, “I am going to prepare some food. I expect you to be very quiet while I do this, as soon as I walk away from you. Understood?”  

“Wait, what are you going to cook?”

“I will roast chicken.”

Faith got the impression he was deliberately choosing the meal that required the longest preparation time, “But that takes an hour!”

“Does the food or you require more checking on?” Ewan said, more to himself, “if you are silent, you might be lucky. Are you saying you are too weak minded to manage it?”

“No!” Faith yelled, “I don’t give a shit. Go cook your crappy food, and abandon me, mage!”

Ewan gave a small smile, “Good. I care more about filling my stomach right now anyway.”

He walked away from her. At first she felt irritated, then anxious. The cool air hit her bare legs and what wasn’t covered of her ass. From there her concentration drifted and she became in a trance. In this state she was barely aware of time passing, yet felt relaxed the first few times Ewan tightened the bindings. She felt euphoric when he touched her. As much as the encounter was infrequent, it felt intimate. He traced her clothes along the bindings at first. One body part at a time. He massaged what he could reach of her muscles. There was nothing overtly erotic about it, really. Faith felt so safe a new feeling arose inside her. A desire to touch him in return, which wasn't part of the game. And also, to satisfy the new craving for him to remove her clothes. Which also wasn’t part of the game.

One day it would be, but she had to train herself to resist her cravings. And this urge was more fun to fight than lyrium withdrawal.


End file.
